target
by Tah the Trickster
Summary: as the president of the schnee dust company and a beacon academy patron of the arts, weiss' father was expected to attend the tournament. he even got the best seats to do so. pity that the best seats were exactly where the white fang scum were running, weapons drawn. (death/blood/abuse warnings)


My father had never been an admirable man. Not really.

I was quite young when the realization first dawned on me, blooming up in the back of my mind much like the livid bruise bloomed up about my wrist where he'd grabbed me.

At the time, I'd justified it. He'd had a bad day. He didn't have the patience to deal with his young daughter on his heels. He didn't know his own strength. He didn'tmean it, not really.

It'd been my own fault.

It was always my fault.

He was my father, after all. It was the father's job to discipline the child. If I was being disciplined, then I must have done something wrong. It was that simple. Fathers loved their children. They didn't discipline unless it was required. That was what fathers did. And that was why fathers were admirable men. That's what allmy books said about fathers.

I justified it for him for years.

I even justified it when his rapier gashed me across the face. He'd had a little too much to drink. He'd only wanted to test me to see how my fencing lessons were holding up. He didn't know his own strength. He'd thought I'd block the hit.

I started believing it less when he turned and walked away after slashing me. I couldn't believe it as much as my nanny wordlessly washed and bandaged my eye up. I believed it even less as I bawled in front of my mirror to Einsam.

It was then that I began to realize that he was not really an admirable man.

Not that I would ever mention that to anyone aside for Sam.

He was my father.

Fathers were admirable men.

They loved their children.

Such was my rationale for bolting to his side, forcing myself against the crowd as White Fang scum flooded the festival. I activated glyphs left and right to clear my path to my father. As the president of the Schnee Dust Company and an official Beacon Academy Patron of the Arts, my father had gotten the best seats possible for the festival.

The best seats were unfortunately right where the armed faunus were headed.

Like hell I would let them lay a hand on my father. He was my father. He loved me. He'd protect me as well if the White Fang were at my heels. He could be an admirable man too.

Such was my justification for freezing two faunus alive and snapping the hamstring of a third. I kept them at bay easily. In the back of my mind, I noted proudly that, finally, my father could see that yes, the fencing lessons were an excellent business investment, my discipline from him had stuck with me, my scar had served as a reminder to always be better, I was an expert in my field, I—

The front of my dress was slick.

Then the pain set in and I collapsed to my knees, Myrtenaster falling from my grip and skidding across the ground, my eyes wide at the exquisite burning in the back of my ribcage. Blood puddled in my mouth and dripped from my gaping lips as I wheezed in pain. I mustered enough strength to lift my head, looking over my shoulder. My father had my rapier in his grip, blood slicking the blade as a gun-toting faunus dropped to the ground.

He turned to look at me, and our eyes met. I managed a shaky pageant-perfect smile, ignoring the crimson liquid dribbling down my chin. I'd done well. He'd have to acknowledge that now. I'd done a good job. He'd even tell me so. He'd tell me that he loved me and that I did a good job. He was sure to realize it.

He was my father, after all.

He loved me.

This had proved it, hadn't it? He'd killed to ensure the White Fang scum couldn't hurt me anymore.

He was admirable.

And now that the nearest faunus were down for the count, he would scoop me up and rush me to the nearest medical facility. That's what the fathers in all my books would do.

His gaze stayed glued on mine, expression inscrutable. "Guards!" he finally barked. My smile widened, a thick black glob of blood slipping past my lips. Good, he'd brought his personal guards to the festival. Good. They could keep us covered as my father rushed me away. That was very good. Particularly with the way the edges of my vision were going dark. "Cover me!" I tried to lift my arms for him, to make it easier for him to pick me up, but they were entirely too heavy.

My pageant-perfect smile froze when he turned and bolted off, Myrtenaster in his hand, his guards rushing towards him from all sides to obey.

My vision slowly grew dim as I watched, till the weight of my head grew too heavy for me to hold up and I dropped forward onto the ground. I waited patiently for him to come back. He wouldn't leave me here. He cared for me.

He loved me.

That was what fathers did.

He was just going to get a medic or… something.

He'd be right back.

I started believing it less when my breath began to rattle. I couldn't believe it as much as my vision went completely black. I believed it even less as the minutes passed without hearing him approach again.

After all, I did remember reading somewhere that your sense of hearing was the last to go.

I'd hoped to hear my father running back to get me.

All I heard was Ruby screaming for me.


End file.
